To Be Human Part 5
by Princepen
Summary: Part Five of mystery involving death of Paul Manheim and Jenice Manheim. More of the main plot is revealed and Data endures a mishap...thanks for reading and reviewing


Disclaimer: I don't own Star Trek; duh

**To Be Human Part 5**

His memory was as old as time. His name, Ruk, had not been spoken aloud in nearly 1000 years. He had remained in a meditative state for the majority of those years. He would guard the secrets of the Old Ones until he disintegrated into dust. Until then he was alone in a cavernous underworld, his only purpose to guard the machines the Old Ones had , outsiders had come to invade the Caverns. Most of them were destroyed in their journey to the Caverns. Only one survived, but was harmed beyond repair. Ruk placed it into the life-giving machine, and it began life anew as a more advanced being. That was when the New One arrived. He froze Ruk with a device, and when Ruk was awakened again, he wanted only to do the bidding of the New One. The New One promised Ruk that their interests were the same: to guard the secrets of the Old Ones; so Ruk obeyed the New One.

* * *

Picard felt irritating perspiration begin to bead on the back of his neck. His meeting with Admiral Haftel was entering its third hour and he felt his focus beginning to slip. His insistence on prying an answer out of his commanding officer was met again and again by Haftel's insistence on evading or at times outright refusing to answer Picard's questions.

"I understand that you are trying to protect your daughter, admiral, but I need answers." He was as close to pounding on the table, as he had ever been.

"Picard your team reported no human DNA reported on the platform on top of Manheim's bizarre device. Isn't that where they say he was killed? Why does my daughter need protecting if she simply found his body? My daughter, as you insist on calling her-I suppose as some means of weakening my resolve—weighs just over 50 kilos. Are you saying that she killed Manheim instantly and with a force that drove him off the edge of that platform and to the floor below?"

Picard took a deep breath. "Actually, Admiral there was human DNA on the floor near the place of impact and yet strangely it was not your daughter's...it was yours."

"Nonsense" said Haftel. "I arrived at the scene after station security and that explains why I might have left something behind."

"Perhaps," allowed the Captain. "But that still doesn't explain why Sylvia's DNA is absent altogether from his body or the area where his body was found. She admitted to my investigators that she touched his body in an attempt to revive him. Surely she would have left something, even a hair follicle behind."

Haftel stood up, and placed his hands flat on the table. His voice was low, but taut with tension. "Captain, I have done everything in my power to cooperate with you, but my patience has run out. The fact is that you have no evidence to tie Sylvia or me to Manheim's death, and no matter how much you try, you never will."

Picard stood up and faced Haftel. "For someone who claims to know nothing, Admiral, how can you be so sure about that?" Haftel gave him a thin smile before exiting the room without another word.

* * *

Picard stepped outside of the room and was mildly surprised to see Worf walking hurriedly toward him. "Worf?"

"Captain, Commander Riker ordered me to find you. There is an odd situation in one of the docking bays…."

Picard felt his temper rising as Worf finished his report. "And he decided to go find out for himself, did he?"

Before Worf could answer, he slapped his communicator. "Picard to Riker". Frowning, he glanced at Worf and repeated the call. Still no answer.

Stepping to a wall panel, his tone betrayed none of the growing concern that he felt. "Computer, what is the location of Commander William T. Riker?"

"Commander Riker is currently on board the USS Enterprise," the computer reported. Picard exhaled loudly, signifying his annoyance. "Worf, I need you to stay and assist Dr. Crusher. She indicated she was making progress in her investigation, and I want you to make certain she is able to finish. I shall be on board my ship."

"Aye sir," said Worf, stepping away slightly.

"Picard to Enterprise. One to beam up."

* * *

**** After collecting a sample from Manheim's wound, Crusher brought it into the adjoining lab to observe it microscopically. Confirming her suspicions, it matched exactly the substance she had retrieved from the platform where Manheim had been killed. The substance turned out to be more familiar than Beverly Crusher had first expected. It was a very thin mix of metallic particles and synthetic polymers. It was, for lack of a better word, synthetic skin. It was very similar to the kind of trace material Data would have left at the scene had he been present at the time of Manheim's death. But Data hadn't been even in the same solar system as Manheim when the professor had been killed. Unless Data's twin brother Lore had found his way to the Daystrom Institute to kill Manheim for no apparent reason, Crusher was at a loss. According to everything she'd been told about Data's origins he was a scientific anomaly at least within the boundaries of the Federation. It wasn't as though there weren't any androids before Data; it was that there hadn't been any androids like Data. Before and after Data's discovery, particularly in the mid- 21st century, the androids produced had been solely to serve human beings or other organic life forms. They were generally mass-produced, until the Federation had begun to pass laws to prevent such a thing. There were too many ethical problems with creating robots which resembled their creators so closely, and could even be programmed to mimic humans with chilling accuracy and yet they possessed neither free will nor the same rights that protected humans. The tendency to abuse the privilege of owning an android was often the case for the average human able to acquire one.

And so the focus shifted to the production of highly advanced computers and worker robots which lacked the appearance and only the most positive selected attributes of their human creators. Stringent laws governed the production of these computers to the extent that there was little difference between a computer on board a starship and a computer in a cafeteria at Starfleet headquarters, aside from the level of performance. As a result, when the technology in Data's operating structure, and particularly his positronic brain were discovered and reactivated in 2338, his appearance caused the resurgence of the same ethical questions humanity had attempted to avoid centuries before. Since then, the technology which caused Data to be whom or what he was had caused more than a few scientists to want to research and study him. Perhaps because of Data's value to Starfleet and his protection as a Starfleet officer, only a few scientists had been brazen enough to express these wishes openly. Bruce Maddox's attempt to disassemble and mass produce his design a few years ago had failed, as had Haftel's attempt to steal the technology used by Data to create his child Lal a year ago. So, the widespread understanding was that, aside from Lore, Data remained one of a kind.

In Crusher's opinion, this was probably a good thing. There had been such uncertainty just a few years ago about Data's rights as a sentient being, that if he had been made in greater numbers it would detract from his uniqueness, and strengthen the arguments of the type of human who saw Data only as property to be controlled. The other curiosity was that the material seemed more refined than Data's skin and again the properties were organic seeming, but more alien than human. Switching off the viewer, she stood up and ran a hand through her hair. She had thought she would be invigorated by finding some solid evidence. Instead, she was more confused than she had been. What did the evidence tell her? That an android had killed Manheim? But how was this possible?

After collecting the sample, she turned toward the exit, and then froze at a sound coming from the morgue. Just a soft shuffle of someone's feet. Crusher slung her bag over her shoulder and moved quietly back toward the morgue. She opened the door, noting that the lights were off, as she had left them. A shape stood across the room very still, next to the storage tube that held Manheim's body.

She waved her hand over the light sensor, at the same time, shouting, "What are you doing here?" Sylvia Sharpe turned to look at her with the same dazed expression she'd had a few days ago when Worf had been questioning her.

"I don't know," said the young woman.

Crusher walked toward her slowly. "You don't know why you're here? For someone reputedly so smart there is a lot you seem to not know, Sylvia. Why is that?" Sylvia shrugged.

"Sylvia, what happened to you nine months ago?" Sylvia shook her head. "There was an accident…I don't remember."

No surprise there. She continued to move closer to the Sylvia slowly, so as not to frighten the woman, who again looked so fragile. "You told us you tried to revive Dr. Manheim when you found his body a few days ago. But there was no trace of human DNA on his body. Doesn't that seem strange to you, Sylvia?"

Sylvia fixed Crusher with an odd look. "Should it?"

Crusher took a deep breath. "Yes, it should…that is if you are human…"

Sylvia looked down at her hands. Silently she seemed to come to a realization. She brought them up closer to her face, with a growing look of horror. "What am I?" She looked at Crusher with a wide eyed frightened expression.

Crusher tried to remain calm, knowing now that it was very likely she was faced with Manheim's killer. She'd left Worf outside the morgue some time ago.

Was he still there? She put her hands out in a steadying gesture. "I don't know, Sylvia. But if you allow me to take a small sample from your skin, I may be able to tell you."

Sylvia stared at her.

"Sylvia, I'm not going to hurt you. I only want to help you." Suddenly Sylvia stuck her arm out, palm up. Crusher resisted the instinct to jump backward, realizing that Sylvia meant no harm. In fact the woman' eyes were shut tightly as though she was afraid to even glimpse the truth.

She took a quick sample from the woman's hand and stepped away, placing it in her tricorder. Almost immediately there was a match with the skin-like substance she had found on Manheim's platform and on Manheim's body, particularly in the wound resulting in his death.

She felt her skin grow clammy. She realized she hadn't truly considered what Sylvia's reaction would be once she was informed of the results. Crusher steeled her will to the task at hand.

"Sylvia, if I am correct, this tissue sample shows that you are an android. I would have to do further tests to confirm but—"

Sylvia suddenly let out a shriek unlike anything Crusher had ever heard. "No, no, no, no, no," she began to repeat over and over. Pushing Crusher out of the way, she raced from the morgue with an inhuman swiftness.

"Crusher to Worf," Beverly shouted into her communicator, catching her balance. "Sylvia just went racing out of here. You need to stop her, Worf…she's the killer."

* * *

** "There," said Leah Brahms almost triumphantly, pointing at the view screen. "You see this blip here just after 1600 hours?" LaForge leaned in to see the orange wave on the screen. Sure enough his VISOR registered an anomaly. "It's the time distortion's signature." Brahms nodded. "Does it look familiar?" Geordi sat down next to Leah. "Yeah…looks like a warp field," he said after a moment. His hands moved over the console, suddenly struck with an idea.

"Let's take a look at the station's scan records for this sector. If we go back to yesterday at 1600 hours I wonder what we'll find." He finished inputting data and they both sat intently watching the information stream in.

"There's barely anything here," said Brahms, disappointment evident in her tone. Her face suddenly brightened. "Wait, here's something—and it's not small at all. " Geordi's heart began to race.

"Computer focus on this distortion here, "he said touching the screen, "and magnify. Data, come here, you've got to see this." "One moment, Geordi," drifted Data's voice from the other side of the dark lab. His voice sounded as though he were in an echo chamber. Within a few moments he was at their side. Data's head tilted as he watched the image on the screen blink and disappear.

"It appears that the temporal flux the station encountered yesterday also manifested itself on Exo III," he reasoned out loud. Brahms nodded and stood up stifling a yawn. "At the very least, the two events are related."

"Well, it's the same type of magnetic field, and the two events are entirely synchronous, so in my opinion, they must be related," said Geordi. "The question is why."

"I believe what we have experienced is the phenomenon of a wormhole, Geordi," said Data. Brahms began to pace around the room. "Created by Manheim?" "That is very likely," said Data.

"So now the question is how did he do it?"

"Actually, that is not the sole question raised by this series of events. However, I believe I may be beginning to understand the answer to that question, Dr. Brahms," said Data.

"If you will follow me," he offered. Brahms and LaForge glanced at each other warily. Had they been sitting there for hours twiddling their thumbs while their android counterpart had already figured out the problem and solution? They stood up and followed Data across the lab, eager to see what he was talking about. Immediately they both noticed an entirely new development. The once seamless metal of the tall cylinder Data had been studying had parted and opened to a dark empty space within. Geordi stepped forward cautiously. "Data, how did you find this? No door was visible before."

"I was curious about the material comprising the tube," said Data calmly, "and I placed my hand on the surface to gauge the temperature like this," he added and placed his palm on the tube lightly. Instantly the opening disappeared. Data's expression remained placid, but his head tilted slightly, as much of an expression of surprise as Geordi knew Data was able to show. "

Is it a hologram, or can we enter it?" asked Leah Brahms, stepping forward assertively. LaForge's arm shot protectively out to stop her almost as if in reflex. Brahms turned to regard him with a half-amused expression.

"Thank you, Commander. I'm sure I will be fine." Geordi felt himself blush and he looked away in embarrassment. With a sideward glance at Data, Brahms placed her palm on the same spot Data had. Nothing.

"Let me try," said Geordi, placing his hand on the structure, which again produced no results. "Data," he offered, stepping out of the way. Data touched the surface lightly and again, the area opened up.

"To answer your question, Dr. Brahms, this structure is not holographic; in fact it is quite real inside and out. And for unknown reasons, the surface responds to my touch at this specific site."

"But not to ours," said Brahms. Rather than answer the obvious, Data gave something resembling a shrug and then he stepped inside. "Light" he said, and the inner chamber lit slightly. Geordi and Brahms followed. There was sufficient room for perhaps three more individuals to stand comfortably. To Brahms, the inside of the chamber was comprised of the same dull grey material, with the exception of four glowing discs at their feet, resembling the floor of a transporter pad. There was no computer terminal or panels inside. Looking up, she felt she was staring into infinite blackness. From the inside, there was no way to determine where the top of the cylinder was.

She heard Geordi gasp beside her. She noted he was craning his neck upward as well. "There's no end to it…" he whispered. "Data," he said in a stronger voice, "this cylinder extends outside of the station…."

Data nodded and stepped out of the chamber the others following. He turned to a nearby panel, which lit up when he touched it. Before, when Geordi had touched the console it had remained dark. Geordi had just assumed Manheim had coded it to his touch. It seemed odd—and lucky- that Data was able to unlock these secrets by a simple touch.

Data turned back to Geordi and Leah. "This appears to be the control panel attached to the device."

"A device that does what?"

"Are you familiar with a Tipler cylinder?"

"From what I recall from my study of early warp theory at the Academy, it was a time travel theory that was dis-proven centuries ago," said Brahms.

"Well, from what I recall, it was never actually tried, before it was ruled out" said Geordi. "The theory was that a person could travel backwards and forwards in time at sub light speeds using a spinning cylinder made of extremely dense matter. Something like what makes up the core of a star. If this is supposed to be a Tipler cylinder, it's not made of the right material," he said softly tapping the metallic surface.

"Right, but it's not activated," said Leah, "so we have no idea what kind of matter he was trying to use." "The other major obstacle to building such a device is that it was theorized as a cylinder of infinite length," said Data.

Leah made a derisive sound. "Let's stop guessing and take a look at the schematics. Are they in there?" She moved toward the console, but it went black as soon as she touched it.

"Please allow me," said Data, re-activating the console and bringing up a hologram of the device.

"Data," said Geordi as he carefully studied the three dimensional image, "why are you able to access this information, the console, and the device, but we aren't?"

"I have several theories. Would you care to hear them all, or—"

"Just the most likely, please…" broke in Leah irritably. "Manheim allowed me to access the security codes to his laboratory three years ago, and as a result I was able to stop the adverse effects of the space time distortion."

"Right...so you think he assumed that if something really went haywire with his project here, that Starfleet would send us again; more importantly you," agreed Geordi. Data nodded. Geordi shrugged. "He trusted you. Makes sense. I trust you."

Leah rolled her eyes. "Can we stick to what's important here?" She pointed at the schematic. "Look at this. He's somehow fused transporter technology with this device!"

"It appears that Manheim added that feature nine months ago. It was not part of the original plans."

"Could that have had something to with the death of his wife?" suggested Leah.

"Or the 'accident' Sylvia Sharpe was involved in?" added Geordi.

"Both scenarios are likely," said Data.

"So he created a time machine that was intended to carry its occupants on a time curve to either the past or the future," said Geordi. "I think we have enough information now that we can all agree that the first test run was a disaster and probably resulted in the deaths of the four unknown Starfleet operatives and severely injured Sylvia Sharpe. I find it hard to believe that Manheim would send his wife on this kind of risky mission, and we really have no proof that he did. No one claims to know what happened to Mrs. Manheim."

"Even so, I think we're safe to assume that she was involved. You said Manheim sent a message to Captain Picard admitting she died because of one of his experiments,"said Leah.

"The result of Manheim's experiment, intentional or not, was to create an unstable wormhole that is increasing in its presence," said Data.

"If it continues to exist, this station is obviously at risk. What if we destroyed this tube?" Leah Brahms eyed the cylinder as though she intended to do so herself.

"Hold on! What if using the tube to traverse the wormhole is the only way to destroy the wormhole? We can't just get rid of the device and hope for the best," warned Geordi.

"I recommend that we continue to scan for an entrance to the wormhole. Once located, a sufficient amount of antimatter should collapse its structure." suggested Data.

"And if we don't locate the entrance?"

Data fixed Leah with a serious look. "Our universe is at risk of being compromised by the universe expanding within the wormhole. In effect, Manheim discovered a universe that is now expanding into our own." The statement had little time to sink in, when Data's communicator beeped.

"Data," interrupted Captain Picard's terse voice. "I need you to meet me in the conference room adjacent to the main courtyard." Data responded in the affirmative, and with a simple nod to Geordi and Leah, he exited the lab.

* * *

"What do you mean he's not here?" On board the Enterprise, Picard stepped down from the transporter pad, his anger turning quickly to confusion.

Chief O'Brien looked uncomfortable. "Commander Riker's not here, sir. A few minutes ago, this piece of cargo arrived, with his communicator. I assumed he was just in a rush and…" "Did he say anything when he ordered the transport?" Picard moved toward the crate, looking at it curiously. "No sir."

"Get it to a lab and have it opened and its contents analyzed," snapped Picard. "Something's not right, and I have to get back to the Institute." He stepped quickly back to the transporter pad. O'Brien manned the controls and within seconds the Captain was beamed away.

* * *

To say that Data suspected foul play would be an exaggeration but Captain Picard's call to him had been unexpected. Data knew that Picard had been meeting with admiral Haftel for several hours and he now assumed that the meeting had abruptly ended. Perhaps the Captain would want to debrief him on the outcome of the meeting. As Data walked through the palladium he noted how few humans were left on the station. Should the wormhole envelope the station as feared the immediate casualties would be limited. Those who had decided to evacuate early on had made the correct decision. How had they known with so little information and knowledge of Mannheim's experiments that this station was in grave danger? Data understood the concept of instinct but of course he had none. Yet as he neared the entrance of the conference room something caused him to hesitate, if for less than a millisecond.

As the doors swished open to reveal not Captain Picard but Admiral Haftel, Data had to concede that the voice synthesizer had been very convincing. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the Nausicaan appear at his left, but it was too late. The Nausicaan held a device to his temple, and he felt an electrical charge course through him. His body went rigid and he was unable to move his limbs. He stared straight ahead at Haftel.

"Hello Data, it's good to see you again." Data's mouth remained in a tight line. If he had been able to speak, he certainly would not have echoed Haftel's sentiment. The situation was entirely problematic.

"I hope," continued Haftel, "that one day you will understand how deeply I respect and admire you. When this is all over, it will all become clear." Data's expression remained unchanged.

The Nausicaan laughed derisively, as he flipped Data's deactivation switch off. He grabbed Data's limp body and moved him toward an oblong container next to the wall. "Much heavier than a human," he grunted, shoving the android's inert body into the capsule. He closed it and activated the anti-grav switch. The tube containing Data hovered horizontally before him.

"A pleasure doing business with you," said the Nausicaan with a nasty smile. He tossed Haftel the device he had used to freeze Data.

"It's got nothing to do with pleasure, I assure you," Haftel snapped, catching the stunner. "Just see that he gets to his destination safely," said Haftel.

* * *

Bruce Maddox had seen Data enter the big conference room next to the park, and was alarmed to see Haftel and a huge Nausicaan pushing an anti-grav stretcher ahead of them. Staying out of sight he followed them. The destination he was led to was a ship docking bay, milling with activity. Hiding in the shadowy doorway, Maddox could see that Haftel had done the unthinkable. He had turned Data, a most remarkable feat of human ingenuity, into a piece of cargo. But why? Data's body was loaded onto a cargo ship by the Nausicaan and several Ferengi, who maneuvered it with the utmost care. Haftel stood stone faced, next to a much smaller shuttle. As he watched, Maddox felt an unexpected, slow burning rage welling up inside him. Suddenly, Haftel ducked inside the shuttle craft out of view. Distracted, a shape caught Maddox's eye. He squinted and could now see that a Starfleet Officer lay inert on the floor behind some barrels. He strained to see—it was Riker! He staggered back involuntarily, as a blast of warm air hit his face. The cargo ship was powering up, and within seconds had lifted off and disembarked the station. Maddox glanced at Riker and saw the man was beginning to stir. Relieved, he backed out of the docking bay. He knew he couldn't afford to be seen, if he was to report what he had just witnessed. Wiping his sleeve over his face, he was shocked to find that he was crying.

* * *

Riker blinked once, then twice, groaning as he propped himself up on his elbow. The deafening sound of engines powering up had shaken him awake. Opening his eyes slowly, the haze in his brain began to dissipate. He was still in the cargo bay, and he was still surrounded by cargo barrels and containers. He heard voices nearby and was glad he remained hidden from view. Or perhaps they were aware of his presence but didn't care because they thought he was still unconscious. He couldn't hear the Nausicaan anymore, but Tog's simpering voice was trying to convince someone he was not trying to cheat them.

"You'll get your payment once the job's done," he promised.

The other voice was female, self-assured and skeptical. "I don't know why, but I'm willing to risk that you're lying. I want to see what Richard is so excited about down on what everyone else claims is a barren rock."

"An adventurous female after my own heart," Tog said with a sneer.

"Right, you mean if you had a heart…" Riker peered between two barrels to get a glimpse of the female speaker and he saw Vash dressed for a planet side excursion. She was nearly a head taller than Tog, who was small even for a Ferengi. He also noticed that the _Deceit_ was no longer docked, and the only ship left was the large shuttle. Who was Richard, he wondered? His question was answered when out of the shuttle hatch appeared Admiral Richard Haftel. Not only had Haftel somehow arranged access to a quarantined planet but he had convinced Vash to follow him down there. He quickly assessed the situation.

He could try and stop Vash and convince her not to go with Haftel. He knew Vash would never listen to him. Besides what did he even know about the planet that would convince her not to go? He could find Picard and let him know in time to at least tractor beam the shuttle before it entered Exo III's atmosphere. But he knew there was no time. He could also try and stowaway on the shuttle at least to ensure that Vash was safe. The shuttle was large, and if lucky, he could travel unnoticed. Once he was on Exo III, he had no idea what he would do, but he had improvised before. Ultimately, although a foolhardy plan, he knew it was the only one available. Tog and his Nausicaan business partner were bad news, and now that he knew Haftel was affiliated with them, Riker had no doubt that Vash was in some kind of danger. If Picard were in his situation, he knew the Captain would attempt to save her, even risking death.

Tog and Vash were boarding the shuttle now. Several other Ferengi followed, and he knew Haftel was already aboard. Wishing more than ever that he had a weapon, he waited until the coast was clear, and slunk over to the back of the shuttle. As the last Ferengi boarded, he slipped on and wedged himself into the supply hold. The sickening roll of the shuttle as it lifted off reminded him there was no going back.

* * *

It seemed to Beverly Crusher that the world was moving in slow motion, and then almost with amusement, she realized that it was. The walkway she ran on suddenly seemed to be ringed with distorted energy, and streaks of light passed by her face at alarmingly slow speeds. "Sylvia!" she shouted, again and again, and her voice seemed like it was somehow coming from behind her. She saw Worf running from the other direction, and his steps were slow and clumsy as if he were running through waist-deep water. He shouted something unintelligible at Sylvia, who stopped and turned back in Crusher's direction, hoping for a way to escape. Crusher froze, fear of Sylvia Sharpe and nausea from the time distortion taking over. She saw in Sylvia's eyes the same fear, and then almost mechanical decision, as she turned back in Worf's direction, and ran full force towards the Klingon with a fearsome scream.

The time distortion seemed to shut off like a switch as Sylvia shot toward Worf at full speed. Worf stepped to the side and tried to grab her using her momentum to swing her around. With a swiftness seldom seen, the young woman's arm shot out and caught Worf in the throat, flipping him onto his back like a rag doll. Without hesitation, she continued running desperately away. Crusher was at Worf's side, and knew immediately his throat had been severely damaged. As Worf struggled to breathe, Crusher heard running footsteps behind her and saw Commander Maddox, sprinting toward Sylvia. Turning back to her patient, she heard the shimmer of a transporter beam and glancing up saw Picard materialize in the middle of the courtyard. She froze, having yet another reason for concern. She looked down at Worf. He was dying, and would die, if she did not get him to sickbay. She cursed her hesitation, and yelled "Crusher to Enterprise, two to beam directly to Sickbay!" Her gaze fixed on Picard, she transported away in an instant.

Picard saw Worf first, crumpled on the ground with Crusher ministering to him, and then they were gone in the flash of a transporter beam. Spinning back to his left he saw Sylvia Sharpe running away, and realized what had somehow just happened. She had no weapon, and yet she had somehow incapacitated Worf. Sprinting to catch up to her, he threw himself arms out grasping at her legs, and tackling her to the ground. He didn't want to hurt her, she was so slight. He felt his knuckles smash sickeningly into the floor and loosened his grip on her calf.

Instead of falling, she staggered, then shook him off which had the effect of throwing him back to the ground. Straining to look up, he saw no emotion in the young woman's face. She stared down at him, totally composed, with her fists clenched, almost daringly. He stood to his feet, putting his hands out defensively, but also in an attempt to show her he meant no harm. Her eyes again, held no emotion. She advanced on him.

"Sylvia! Stop!" Bruce Maddox ran up behind her and halted. "Sylvia, what are you doing? Please stop," he pleaded. He reached out to touch her hesitantly. She turned to regard Maddox, and slowly recognition seemed to shine in her eyes.

Picard stood and waited, seeing security personnel coming out of the corner of his eye. He nodded to them subtly. They moved up behind Sylvia and Picard shouted "Phasers on stun. Fire!" There was a flash and Sylvia dropped to the ground like a stone, unconscious. Picard took a deep breath and examined his left hand cursorily. Clearly it was broken. "Well, Maddox, we finally have a chance to chat."

**End of Part Five**


End file.
